


At Last!

by PudentillaMcMoany



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Etta James, M/M, Roof kissing, but not a 100 words drabble, it's not 2007 guys, the party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 23:56:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7734802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PudentillaMcMoany/pseuds/PudentillaMcMoany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kiss on the roof in 3x05. Etta James ahoy. Feels galore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Last!

There is a moment, between the fourth and fifth listening of Etta James’s At Last! (Argo Records, 1960), when At Last (the song) begins, softly like Spring, and a person listening to it (or; a man of fine musical tuning, an aesthete) feels a peculiar elation, what with its subtle opening like curtains unfolding, what with Etta James’s voice lifting you up like many rose-hued fingers- and suddenly life does feel like a song, verdant and new, everything magnified, multicolour, the moon glinting perfectly round in the sky above and the leaves rustling in the trees like the most beautiful music in the universe (although maybe not like Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong singing Summertime, Verve Records, 1957), and.

 

And so Etta James is singing At Last in Howard’s head as Vince kisses him, and when Howard opens his mouth tentatively it’s still Etta James jolting down his back, violin-chord-taut, reverberating until he gets it, how it can be that the world may be wrapped up in clover (like the best birthday present he ever received, a child barefoot on the cool pavement with a golden May sunlight pouring in from the windows); and nevermind the murderous shaman looming over him and Vince, nevermind bouncy castles and also, forgive him, nevermind Jazz. Nevermind that the music in his head has the wrong rhythm, that it’s completely off-tempo with the quick small kisses that Vince bestows upon him, or with the stroking of a finger on his cheek, too fast and too slow respectively; and it should be unnerving but it isn’t, because the song in his head suddenly goes _and there we are in heaven_ , and it feels like it, ridiculously, on the roof of their house, in a chilly London May night lit by the moon.

And then Vince opens his mouth and Howard feels his breath against his cheek, and he feels hope like a new season, at last.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying my hand with these guys! I REALLY LIKE THEM. They're good guys.


End file.
